One Simple Phone Call
by LovelyLorraine
Summary: Lisa manages to fool Jackson into thinking she makes the call when the phones cut out on the plane. Now the client is threatening Jackson's life if he doesn't succeed in terminating the Keefe's. And as it turns out, there's much more to the Keefe's desired termination than meets the eye.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! This is a fan fiction for Red Eye, quite obviously. I adore the movie, Cillian Murphy and Rachel McAdams, so I'm quite excited to play with the characters and story. I am hoping to have several chapters. This will be rated M for language and mature adult content. Of course I'm one of many who finds a Jackson and Lisa pairing really sexy and alluring. So here it goes! Please review. It takes a couple of seconds and it's greatly appreciated! I love recieving feedback, even if it's just a couple of words. Thanks!**

One Simple Phone Call

Lisa sits shaking, tears rolling down her cheeks as Jackson swipes her credit card with a loud click. "Here we go, Leese." His voice is very uplifting, but so fake it cuts through her like a knife.

Turning to look at him her eyes are glossy and bloodshot. "Please," Jackson watches her mouth form the plea, "don't do this. You don't have to do this." She shakes her head and bites her lower lip, trying her hardest not to burst into a new stream of tears.

Jackson smirks and dials the hotel number, the number keys making obnoxious beeping noises. "Let's just get it over with, okay?" Jackson places the phone gingerly into Lisa's trembling hand.

Bringing the phone up to her ear Lisa takes a deep breath, her right hand clenching the receiver tighter with each ring. _Don't pick up_, she begs. _Don't pick up, Cynthia. For once, just please be somewhere else._ But her hopes are shattered when Cynthia answers the phone in her usual chipper voice, only slightly clouded with sleep on her graveyard shift. "Lux Atlantic, this is Cynthia."

Jackson's eyes are burning the side of Lisa's face, the ice crystal orbs piercing her. "Cynthia, its Lisa." Lisa takes a shuddering breath, preparing to make a mistake she knows she'll never forget. "I need you to do something for me."

"Lisa? Are you in Miami?" Cynthia inquires making Lisa mentally strangle her. She doesn't want small talk, she wants to get this over with, and she wants Jackson's charming face to stop staring at her jaw line with that sinister glare and smug smile.

Lisa shakes her head. "No, I'm on the plane. The flight was delayed. I won't be in Miami for a little longer." Her voice threatens to shake but she keeps swallowing hoping that her fear is simply resting on her tongue.

Jackson rolls his eyes and Lisa turns to look at him, her eyes glossy yet again, her face growing paler. "Come on, Leese." Whispering Jackson is almost as bad as yelling Jackson, she can imagine. His voice is eerie and quiet, with more behind it than just impatience.

Lisa turns back to looking straight ahead at the cradle the phone rests in. "It's about the Keefe's." Lisa's voice stings, her eyes prickle with tears, and then just when she thinks Cynthia is going to start speaking in a shrill voice of panic the phone goes strangely silent and the plane begins to shake a little.

Lisa grips the seat with her free hand, her left one, and keeps a tight grasp on the phone in her right. She suddenly realizes that the phones are no longer working due to the turbulence on the plane. With her mind reeling Lisa swallows, nodding her head like Cynthia is still speaking to her, her voice still carrying syllables into her awaiting ear.

Jackson, unaware, continues to watch Lisa with a look in his eyes that seems unnatural for someone like him. He's watching her with some sort of emotion that she can't quite place. With his eyes he seems to be assessing every curve of her neck, the tone of her skin, the colour of her eyes, the exact shade her hair is in the dark and in the harsh light. She turns only slightly so he won't see the screen of the phone and looks right at him, her eyes watching his instead of just her peripheral vision playing with her. Jackson smirks, and then looks a touch unguarded. He quickly smoothes the front of his crisp shirt and plays with his jacket before settling into his seat, lifting is guard again and watching her with cold eyes, intimidating her again.

Lisa nods again as if Cynthia is telling her someone of great length causing Jackson to stiffen a little. "Look, Cynthia, I understand, but that's not going to matter anymore, okay?"

Jackson smiles and watches more carefully, relaxing just a touch. "That's it," he mutters between his smiling lips.

"Yes," Lisa says into the dead phone as the plane thrashes around suddenly causing her grip to tighten on the seat, her breath catching in her throat. "There's a lot of turbulence, Cynthia, so can you hear me?" Lisa sighs. "Good, now you need to change The Keefe's room, okay? Yes, the Keefe's."

Lisa takes a deep breath as Jackson puts his hand over Lisa's that is clenching the seat in a deathly grip. His hand caresses hers with a fondness she can't help but be surprised by. She relaxes a little, but her heart leaps in her chest and she stiffens again, feeling the hand of a killer on her body causes her to cringe.

Jackson takes no notice, holding her hand awkwardly. "Change their room to suite 4080." Lisa pretends like she can hear Cynthia panic and whine. "I know. But, there's been a major plumbing issue in that room. Maintenance is waiting on the parts to arrive, so for now all of the water is shut off in that room. I completely forgot when I was talking to you earlier. I'm sorry, Cynthia." Lisa nods. "I know. Just make sure you tell them that I authorized it. Their security isn't going to be impressed, so just be calm, okay? I'm sorry." Lisa nods again, shrugging out of Jackson's hand to place her left elbow on the arm rest so her hand can reach her temple.

Lisa sits up straight all of the sudden. Jackson watches her body language and stiffens himself. The plane is jerking a little, but not enough to cause Lisa any serious emotional distress. "Lisa?" His voice is barely above a whisper and it sends a chill down Lisa's spine.

"Cynthia?" Lisa asks into the dead phone. Her mind is reeling. "Hello? Cynthia?" Lisa takes the phone away from her ear and looks at the screen seeing the message printed neatly. _Our phones are temporarily out of service. Please try again later. _Lisa shows Jackson.

With effortless speed he snatches the phone from her hand and smashes it back into the cradle. "Tell me, Lisa," his voice is very angry, "will Cynthia change the room even though the phone call you just made was cut short?" Jackson has one hand on Lisa's jaw forcing her to look right into his blue eyes.

She blinks slowly. Acting has never been a strong suit for Lisa, but she internally begs that she'll remain believable. "She'll do what I say," Lisa says quietly and effectively as Jackson searches her face for any crease or mark that will tell him otherwise.

He sits back. "And you know this for a fact?" Lisa feels a chill run up her spine. She nods quickly but then stops, watching his face, the way his jaw is cut so jagged and handsome. The tousled dark hair is messy and his suit is sharp and dark, the light colour of his shirt contrasting everything.

Tilting her head, Lisa inquires, "What does it matter? I made the call. That was the deal."

Jackson rubs his forehead with his piano fingers. "I need to make sure that the job is completed, Lisa. The deal doesn't come into play after I get a call."

Lisa shakes with some sort of rage and sadness. Her father isn't far from her mind as she recalls Jackson's words about a certain man in a silver beamer parked outside of her house, rhyming the address off like it was his own home. "You promised me that if I made that call, that whoever is out-

"I know, Lisa." Jackson cuts her off with a firm voice. "I will keep that promise. I just need to get a phone call first."

_Save you a seat? You're not stalking me, are you? Just keeping the focus on you and your father. Government overthrows, fancy high-profile assassinations, the usual. But as fate would have it, my business is all about you. You tell the flight attendant, and your Dad dies. That's a knife, Leese._

"When will you get the call?" Lisa asks running through everything Jackson has said to her, from the innocent to the sinister.

Jackson lets out a long breath, clearly growing annoyed. "When I get the call," Lisa dares herself to look at him and sees nothing annoyed about his features. Jackson appears to be relieved, his body relaxed, his eyes a little heavy, even.

Lisa shuts her mouth, the turbulence starting to cause her stomach to clench and unclench with every bump. Lisa feels guilt knot in her stomach, because she knows she just tricked an assassin, one with the power to kill her and her father. _I'm a lousy shot_. That doesn't mean he has no other methods of killing her and he's got someone skilled right outside of her childhood home. His hands look like they could wrap all the way around her neck and choke the life out of her. His build is intimidating, a very muscular and powerful person. He knocked her out earlier, his head ramming into hers. She shivers, her body feeling chilled, her insides freezing.

Lisa eventually drifts off, her eyes extremely heavy, the plane bouncing and her head giving the occasional throb. It all meshed together to create some sort of twisted lullaby and Lisa fell into deep sleep with an assassin next to her, who was watching everyone around them.

"Lisa?" Lisa jolts awake feeling hands on her shoulders. When she opens her eyes they are staring right into Jackson's. "You want to get off this piece of steel or not?"

She nods, trying not to react negatively while everyone rustles around getting their luggage and heading towards the exit of the plane. Jackson, of course, being a gentleman helps out the blond lady again, with a look of distaste in his blue eyes. He comes back and gets Lisa's luggage, being sure to place her credit card into the one empty slot in her wallet. His elegant piano fingers dancing along the ridges of her other cards making her vision blur. She begins to tilt only to feel his hands reach out to her, steadying her.

"Let's go grab a coffee, alright?" Jackson seems to have transformed into the person he was when Lisa first met him. His eyes are twinkling, his smile appears genuine.

Lisa follows him reluctantly towards the coffee shop inside the airport. Jackson appears to have no luggage except for his cell phone clipped to his pants. Lisa, on the other hand, pulls a rolling suitcase behind her. They take their seats and just when Jackson begins to stand, his phone chimes. Lisa sits up straight her eyes suddenly wide and filled to the brim with new tears. Jackson gives her wink taking the phone from the top of his pants.

"Rippner," he says into the plastic phone. "Already? No, no, not an issue. Yes, I know. Perfect." He brings the phone away from his ear just to hit end. Then Jackson sets it back where he got it, clipped perfectly to the top of his dark dress pants. "Looks like this is where we part ways, Leese." His voice seems so genuine Lisa has to watch him for a moment to be snapped back into a reality where he is a killer and she is a victim.

Lisa stands, the metal chair screeching against the tiled floor. "You promised." Her voice breaks, a single tear rolls down her pale cheek.

Jackson winks again. "Yes, I know." He looks around. "I'm going to go this way," he gestures behind him, "and you're going to go the opposite. Once you are out of sight, the call will be made."

Lisa shakes her head. "Do it now."

Jackson shakes his head. "Afraid I can't," He shrugs then walks towards her. It takes all she can not to cower. "It was pleasant, Lisa. Thank you for your co-operation." He starts to walk away from Lisa, whose knees are buckling, but stops and walks back, placing a delicate hand on her shoulder, his long fingers gripping her. He leans close and whispers into her ear, "You can scream now, if you want. You can tell everyone. But, just know, I'm the one who makes the call to the guy in the beamer listening to smooth jazz." He pulls away and plants a kiss on Lisa's lips.

At first, nothing but disgust churns through her, but then warmth spreads over her skin like she's just stepped into the sun after being in chilly air conditioning. Her body relaxes and her arms immediately go around Jackson's neck, her body inviting him to stay. Without a hesitant thought Jackson wraps his arms around Lisa's waist and kisses her deeper, wondering when she'll let what he just told her sink in, when she'll start to cry and scream and run away.

He pulls back first, much to his surprise and looks at her carefully. "You monster," Lisa mutters pressing a hand to her chest, her fingers dancing along the edge of her shirt, almost rubbing something hidden, something secretively. "Why the hell would you do that? Make the call!"

Jackson smirks. "Off you go, Lisa. Goodbye." Jackson kisses her forehead and turns, walking away, not even making a move to suggest he will use his phone.

Lisa starts to run after him, only to feel her knees buckle. "Make the call," she whispers, "You promised me you'd make the call." Her voice stings, the tears running down her cheeks as she lowers herself to the ground beside the metal chair, table set and her suitcase.

Then, for the first time in hours, Jackson is nowhere in sight, completely gone. Lisa stands, only long enough to take a seat on the chair. Several sets of eyes are drawn to her probably because she looks so fragile and weak; so damaged. Then, her voice feels like it's ready to rip out of her throat as she screams. The sound makes the entire room stare, the people to stop mid-stride as Lisa Reisert lets herself go. Her body shakes as she screams and cries, her mind unsure of what it all means. The menacing Jackson Rippner threatening her father, plotting to assassinate an entire family, then decides to lovingly kiss her and touch her, let his eyes stare at her, let his body tell her things his lips seem incapable of saying. Confusion is the only word that can describe Lisa's state as she continues to scream and cry until finally someone stops staring with a wide mouth and comes over to see if she's okay.

"Miss?" A young girl with stick straight black hair and incredibly done eye make up comes over and squats next to Lisa, her brown eyes searching Lisa's green ones. "Talk to me." She's wearing dark denim jeans and a very baggy t-shirt with some band logo and name written across it. Her hair is dyed electric blue underneath and everywhere in her ears is pierced and every piece of skin exposed on her arms and hands is tattooed.

Lisa shakes her head. "I have to go," Lisa nods a thanks to the girl who stands looking very stunned as Lisa grabs her suitcase forcefully and begins to walk to the front of the airport, determined to get a taxi and go to her fathers house. For some reason, she doesn't doubt that Jackson will make the call. But, she also doesn't doubt that Jackson will find out one way or another that she played him, which means any mixed emotions he had, and any mixed emotions she returned will be shot in the head. Perhaps they can be buried next to her body, for she surely won't survive a week with Jackson Rippner having been played, and played good.

**Not exactly what one would call a cliff-hanger, I know. I hope this wasn't terribly dull. I do like to introduce events with lots of description and minimal action. I do promise I will pick up the pace. I am famous for cliff-hangers in my many other works (those works not being on this site because those works are not fan fiction), so be prepared.**

**If you would like this story to continue, please leave a review. Give me opinions of where you think it should go. I have an idea, but other ideas are welcome with open arms. I want to get some reviews, or else I won't be too big on continuing. I want to continue. So, please, take some time and review. I love recieving feedback! No matter if it's 'I love this!' to 'You should work on...'. So please, feel free. Thank you!**


	2. Chapter 2

**I hope that this isn't a disappoint to people who are reading this story! Again, this story is M rated for a reason. Language and mature adult content will be present, so please, if you don't like that sort of thing, steer clear. So here we go, chapter two. And please review. I've recieved ONE review, which was greatly appreciated, thanks so much! But I would love to hear more about what you think. If you want this story to keep going, I would really like some sort of feedback so I know I'm not just posting this for no reason. I want to know you are interested. Thanks a bunch!**

**Attention! This chapter has been edited. The ending has changed. I changed my mind about the motives. So give it another read if you have already read it. Thanks.**

Lisa grabs a taxi outside of the airport, her knees feeling weak and her arms like jelly. Sitting is like being in heaven as Lisa relaxes in the backseat of the cab as it takes off towards her house. For some reason, Lisa feels nothing even related to fear, simply because she knows that her father is safe. Jackson is a man of his word, despite how much that chills and excites her. What she does feel is a level of guilt. She's always considered Charles Keefe to be a good man, but maybe that's not right, maybe there's a reason someone wanted him taken out. Lisa shakes her head, she hates when she sympathizes with the enemy.

"Miss?" The taxi driver turns in his seat and looks at Lisa who appears to be off in her own world. "Are you okay?"

Lisa shakes her head. "I'm fine, thanks. Here you go," she places a wad of cash into the drivers hand and steps out of the cab with her suitcase rolling behind her.

Not to her surprise a silver car is nowhere in sight. As she walks up the walkway Lisa finds herself wondering if she'll last through the night with Jackson probably hearing very disturbing news, contemplating what to do with her body, how to dispose of her with the least amount of effort. Her insides twist a little at the thought as she reaches the front door. The familiar evergreen of the door is terribly bright and the glass is foggy and textured. She remembers being young and running her fingers over the rippled glass, letting it tickle her fingers.

"Lisa?" Joe Reisert answers the door before Lisa can even lift a finger to the bell. "What are you doing here?"

Lisa smiles, trying her best to choke back tears. "I thought I'd spend the night," Lisa feels tears but forces them back, "Take you up on that offer."

Joe laughs and places a hand on her shoulder stepping aside for her to enter. The renovation is clearly underway with the stairs covered in blankets and the drywall not painted. "Be glad I didn't touch your room then," Joe laughs and shuts the door behind them. "How was the flight?"

Lisa shrugs. "It was as scary as any." Her voice sounds so small and seems to echo in the large entryway.

Joe offers something to eat and Lisa accepts sitting down with a bowl of soup. The two discuss her travel and how long the flight was there and back, how her mother is holding up and how her boyfriend is. Lisa struggles to answer not sure how much information to reveal, for information is what can easily destroy someone. Her father's facial expressions seem comfortable enough, dark circles beneath his eyes that reflect on another sleepless night with the Comedy Network, so she continues talking with ease. Half the day goes by when they stand and look around the house at the renovations. Lisa admires her room, how familiar it feels and smells. Her cheerleader uniform hanging in the closet, pictures from her graduation and sports teams placed delicately on the bedside tables.

"It hasn't changed much since you were eighteen," Joe laughs, leaning against the doorway.

Lisa chuckles a little, placing her suitcase at the end of her bed taking a seat on the soft surface hearing it creak a little; a familiar sound. "It hasn't changed _at all._"

* * *

><p>Jackson grips his steering wheel tight, his other hand on his knee tapping lightly to the rock music generating from the stereo. He just made the phone call to the man in the beamer. The man had been reluctant to leave, but he's a good dog, only listens to the voice of his master. Jackson smirks while cruising down the highway, planning on meeting up with someone from the company and having a drink. His buzz is interrupted by the obnoxious chime of his cell phone.<p>

"Rippner," Jackson says quietly.

"I'm sure I don't have to tell you twice to not ask questions and get over to base." The man on the other end of the phone possesses the voice of Jackson's boss, his master, Murphy.

Jackson snaps his phone shut, unsure of what is about to come. He pulls off to the side of the highway and pulls across traffic so he can go back the way he came, back to the other side of Miami where angry people await.

He drives down a long driveway, paved yes, but eerie with trees lining either side casting long shadows in the now setting sun. Jackson goes through a second set of gates leading to a very large and beautiful mansion, which as anyone in the company knows, holds much more than beauty and serenity. Underground is where everything takes place, underground out of everyone's reach.

Jackson parks his car carelessly slamming the door shut, his heart flipping in his chest suddenly. He isn't sure what he should be feeling, but it's something along the lines of fear that's making his feet feel heavy. He watched Lisa make that call, he saw her mouth move over the room number, he felt her lips after they helped him kill someone, he watched her eyes glaze over and guilt wrench through her stomach. He's certain of one thing: Lisa Reisert knew not to mess with him and he knew how to mess with her.

He walks to the front doors and enters a long string of numbers acting as a code. He swings open one of the two heavy doors hearing his elegant and glossy shoes make a heavy thud against the marble floors as he walks towards the back of the house. His destination is a hidden door behind a bookcase. "Ah, there you are," Jackson turns and sees a man coming up behind him dressed as sharply as he, but instead of blue eyes piercing the air he has brown chocolate eyes and scars all over his face. "Word around here is that shit has hit the fan," the man winks, "and it's your fault."

Jackson laughs lightly as he continues to walk, reaching the bookcase. His stomach does clench a little as he uses all of his force to open the bookcase door. "A misunderstanding, I'm sure."

The man shakes his head. "Fucking misunderstanding?" The man laughs blackly. "Maybe you'll think twice when your body is being cremated so there's no trace of the high-profile assassin named Jackson Rippner."

Jackson storms through the door hearing it click behind him. He walks down the concrete flight of stairs to a huge open space with doors everywhere. He walks straight to the door at the very end and walks in seeing Murphy leaning against his very own desk. "You're in my office," Jackson says clicking the door shut and walking behind the desk to take a seat in his chair.

Murphy doesn't look impressed. "You fucked an assignment up, Rippner."

Jackson raises an eyebrow and leans back in his chair. "Please elaborate."

Murphy stops leaning and begins pacing. The room is outlined with bookshelves holding Jackson's favourite and most useful volumes. "She didn't make the call." Murphy states, "The Keefe's are alive and breathing."

Jackson shakes his head reaching into his jacket pocket pulling out his glasses and placing them on his nose, the plain white is striking against his face, as Murphy drops a file onto his desk with a loud thud. "That's impossible," Jackson mutters as he opens the file to reveal a photo at the hotel of the Keefe's exiting the building clinging to one another, their children sobbing, the parent's faces tight with concern, and the security looking surprisingly calm and collected. "I watched her make the call."

Murphy shakes his head. "You have never lied to me, Jackson," he begins, "but this is evidence that either you are lying right now or she fucked with you, and fucked with you good. Which is it? Your life is on the line. Smith gave us millions to have the Keefe's terminated, and as luck would have it, he's in Miami and probably coming here now to either put a bullet through your skull or threaten to."

Jackson leans back, keeping his glasses on his nose, his eyes wide. "Lisa," he murmurs remembering her phone call, the turbulence throughout, the end when she showed him the little message scrawled across the screen. _Our phones are temporarily out of service. Please try again later._

Murphy just stares as Jackson puts everything together; his brow furrowing and his hands clenching the desk with enough force to have it crumble in his hands. "Jackson," Murphy says with his anger seeming to drain a little, "she sounds like the perfect candidate for your job."

Jackson growls. "Fuck," he slams his fist down on the table. _She'll do what I say._ "Fuck!" Jackson stands and places both hands on his desk just as a man, without knocking, enters the room. His face is red with boiling rage and is wearing a sharp gray suit with a barely noticeable glint of a silver revolver inside his jacket. This supports Jackson's thoughts about this being Smith, the client.

"Rippner is the best man for the job, sir," the man mocks as he walks towards the desk, "he'll get the job done in minimal time. He will do whatever is necessary to complete it. You will not be disappointed." He reaches the front of the desk eyeing the rage in Jackson's eyes and the uneasiness in Murphy's. "I am very disappointed, Murphy."

Murphy straightens. "Usually our clients don't make grand entrances."

Smith laughs. "Usually, I'm sure, your clients don't rake over millions only to be given the news that their targets are still breathing."

Jackson stiffens. "She fucked with me." Jackson mutters watching Smith watch him. He raises an eyebrow and notices how angry Jackson is, how his hands are shaking, his shoulders perfectly squared, the way his knuckles are turning white from gripping the edge of the desk so hard.

Smith nods. "Let me make this clear, Rippner," the man pulls out his silver revolver and walks around the desk, pointing it right between Jackson's eyes, "I like you and your work. You've done some pretty impressive things. But, I won't hesitate to pull this trigger if you don't go back out there and get that girl to co-operate so your company can actually terminate the Keefe family." Jackson swallows staying tall. He isn't afraid of this man, but he is afraid of his career being gone, his name being known.

Jackson places a delicate finger on the end of the revolver and gently pushes it down so it's aiming at the floor. "She's not going to co-operate," Jackson says, "How would I ever be able to bury my way in again?"

Smith looks Jackson in the eye. "She will co-operate."

Jackson smirks and rolls his eyes. "No she won't. She told me that Keefe is a decent man." Jackson shrugs. "She won't help me kill him."

"Ah," Smith puts away his revolver and raises a finger, "but _you_ won't be the one killing him. You'll be the one getting her to turn off security cameras in the hotel, pass clearance to other men in this company, and then allow them to leave in an awaiting helicopter on the next building over." Smith smiles and Jackson almost begins to object when Smith cuts him off, "Tell her what she doesn't know about the Keefe's. Tell her why I want his name to be erased from the face of this planet. Tell her everything in that file about the real Charles Keefe and his family."

Jackson raises his eyebrows. "I will," Jackson nods as Smith walks out of the room leaving Murphy with a furrowed brow.

Jackson opens the file and flips to the next picture, one of Lisa walking up to her father's house after leaving the airport. He smiles knowing she played with him, and she did it so well that he believed it. No one has ever been able to fool Jackson Rippner before, which makes him intrigued and angry at the same time. Admittedly, at first, Jackson wanted revenge, now his anger has simmered and he sees something different, the way her eyes lit up when he leaned into her, pressing his soft lips against hers. He smiles tracing the curve of her body in the photo, his mind reeling with how she'll scream when he shows up at her house, how she'll scream even louder when he hands her the file and tells her about the real Charles Keefe.

"She's going to try to fight you again." Murphy says pulling Jackson out of his trance.

Jackson smiles and looks up at Murphy taking his glasses off then placing them in his jacket pocket. "She won't once she finds out about the real Charles Keefe." Murphy shrugs. "When she finds out that Charles Keefe wants her entire family dead, including her."

**A little bit of a different take, I think. Much more will be explained later. Right now you may have many questions/concerns, but I'm pretty sure they are all answered in my head and will be explained as the story progresses. I'm trying very hard to make sure EVERYTHING makes sense. Anywho, please leave a review. They are greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading! Chapter three is coming soon.**


	3. Chapter 3

**So here is chapter three. To be honest, I'm getting a little discouraged. When writing, I strive for perfection, so any flaws I find extremely annoy me and make me get discouraged.**

**With that in mind, thank you to anyone who has pointed things out that have been questionable! I really do appreciate it. I do NOT get annoyed at the individual telling me such things, more at myself for missing something.**

**Anyways, chapter three. Leave reviews, mistakes, pointers, praise, or opinions. I love hearing them! Enjoy.**

Lisa can't sleep. Her mind is racing. Every time she does fall into a deeper sleep she's awakened by the creaking of the floorboards or a rush of wind outside her window. The moonlight leaking in through the sheer curtains creates ghostly patterns on the comforter and makes her heart race until she forces herself to calm down. Even though she knows he isn't here yet, she can't help but wonder when Jackson will actually show up and choke the life out of her. Soon enough is always the answer that comes into her head when she wakes up. _Soon enough._ But, she wants an answer. She wants him to come and get her now so she doesn't have to spend her nights tossing and turning, so she doesn't have to look over her shoulder. She would rather be dead or dying now by his hands, then wait for it to come.

"Go to sleep," she mutters to herself as she rests her head on one of the two pillows. Her feet are tangled in the sheets, her body covered in a thin layer of sweat. "You're being paranoid, just…Go to sleep." Her voice is thick and her mouth feels dry but she doesn't dare get up. If she gets up now, she'll never fall asleep.

Then finally, sleep comes in a thick blanket and covers her body. But, this sleep brings nightmares.

_She's running. Her feet are bare and slapping against concrete. The blood rushing in her head and her breathing coming out in heavy sets is all she can pick up on. Her surroundings are simple enough: a hospital parking lot._

_"Lisa?" She hears her name and looks over her shoulder, still running in the direction of the emergency room. Her eyes widen in horror as she sees Jackson with a long knife, perhaps a KA-BAR, held firmly in his left hand. He isn't running, just walking with a perfectly tailored suit covering his lean and muscular build. _

_She runs even faster, forcing her feet to slap down harder until she finally reaches the automatic doors and steps inside. To her disappointment, no one is here. Desperately, she looks around and sees all the lights off, the hallways dim, the fluorescents even flickering. Her heart hammers as she feels sweat build on the back of her neck and in the palms of her hands. Where is everyone? With a glance over her shoulder she sees Jackson right outside of the doors preparing to step in._

_"No!" Lisa screams running down a hallway. Her bare feet slap even louder against the tile floor. She tries her best to run lightly so she won't generate as much sound, but every move seems terribly loud._

_"Do you recognize this hospital, Lisa?" Lisa runs into a room that is very dark and closes the door, her body leaning against it, a chill going down her spine not just because of the cold of the door, but the way Jackson is speaking. His voice sounds like a sick lullaby, a sinister prayer. "Of course you wouldn't. How foolish of me."_

_Lisa breathes deeply and evenly trying to see into the pitch dark of the room. Her eyes widen when she hears Jackson's heavy footsteps right outside of the door. His hand is on the doorknob and twisting it. In a fit of rage and desperation Lisa grabs the doorknob from her side and tries to firmly hold it in place, her body feeling suddenly very weak. "Leave me alone!" Her scream bounces off of the walls, letting her realize that she is in a very large room._

_Jackson gives one good shove and the door swings open, knocking Lisa onto her bottom. "This is the hospital where my parents were taken after I stabbed them." His voice cradles her like a demonic child, while her heart beats like a rabbit's in her chest. "Let's see," Jackson mumbles shutting the door behind them. Lisa stands trying to step away from Jackson without being lost in the darkness consuming both of them. Jackson flicks on a light and it's like a spotlight from heaven shines down on a silver table with wheels. On that table is a body._

_Lisa screams. "What is wrong with you!" Lisa yells. Her voice cracks and a tear rolls down her cheek._

_The woman on the table is young and quite beautiful. Her hair is dark as night, her skin very pale, her fingers long, and her eyes are open even though she is quite obviously dead. Her eyes are none other than a striking blue…_

_"I stabbed my mother seventeen times, Leese." Jackson walks over to the table, stepping into the spotlight next to his mother. All Lisa can do is watch in horror as Jackson caresses his mother's dead face, his piano fingers traveling over her dead features, then gradually gripping her fingers that are identical to his. With delicate hands he closes her eyes. His eyes and hers could be the same set._

_Lisa swallows. "Why are you showing me this?" Her voice seems louder than necessary but she stands her ground, swallowing bile that is rising in her throat faster than a river breaking through a dam._

_Jackson steps around the table with his mother and walks over to a patch of darkness. Suddenly, another spotlight turns on and reveals Jackson standing over another silver table with wheels, this time holding the body of a man, about the same age as the woman and just as lovely. This man, though, is a spitting image of Jackson Rippner. "I stabbed my father thirty times, Leese." Jackson looks up and right into Lisa's eyes. "I hated my father." Jackson turns to Lisa and pulls the knife out he had stashed in his pocket. He glides it along the edge of the table letting it make a screeching noise as Jackson slowly moves towards Lisa. "But, you see Lisa, I didn't hate my parents as much as I hate you for fucking with my job. So, tell me, how many times do you deserve this beautiful knife to penetrate your perfect body?" Jackson grins like the Cheshire cat, his eyes starting to glow._

_Lisa backs up and feels a wall behind her. She's doomed. Her voice won't come out, her body won't move, her eyes won't stop watering. And just when Jackson reaches her with the knife an inch from her perfect throat, he stops. With a delicate hand he cups her face and kisses her. He kisses her deeply and lovingly, not a single amount of passion forgotten and left aside. His mouth moves with hers in the most honest way he can, and Lisa can feel her body move again, pressing into him, her arms wrapping around him begging him to stay in this moment. Then, a piercing pain goes through her and she crumbles to the ground. She grips her side and pulls her hand away seeing oozing red blood. _

_"No one ever gets away from me, Leese." Jackson smiles and kneels down next to her. "Not them," he points to his parents dead bodies in the bizarre spotlights, "and not you."_

Lisa wakes up screaming. She turns to the bedside table where her alarm clock sits and sees the time being shortly after nine o' clock in the morning. Her eyes feel heavy, her body even heavier. She never sleeps in so late. Then she practically jumps out of her skin at the shrill sound of her phone. She had placed it on the bedside table last night, and the last thing she expected was to hear it go off.

She picks it up with a shaking hand. "Lisa Reisert," her voice trembles slightly as she tries to calm her breathing.

"Lisa!" Cynthia screams into the phone. "You would not believe what happened! I swear I did everything you would have expected me to! I tried calling yesterday morning after it happened but your phone must have been off! I didn't realize you wouldn't be coming right back to work. Oh, you're going to be so mad! Please don't be mad!"

Lisa sits up straighter then realizes it will be about the explosion to suite 4080. "I already know, Cynthia. It's okay, just calm down, alright?"

Cynthia takes a deep breath on the other line. "How do you know? Did you watch the news yesterday or something?"

Lisa nods. "Yeah, I did." Lisa tries to sound convincing. "Is maintenance fixing everything?"

"Yes, they are. There are several construction workers here too. I called them after the panic died down and we let people back in around seven yesterday morning. Everyone is safe, and the Keefe's are still here. Can you believe that? I can't believe their security is keeping them here." Cynthia barely breathes as she speaks and it's making Lisa feel chills through her body.

Lisa sighs. The Keefe's are still staying at the Lux Atlantic after an attack on a suite? Why on Earth would they still be there? "Well, they must know something then. Cynthia, call Heather and get her to come in and do the day shift. Are you okay working again tonight? I might just pop by and see how things are and get some paperwork done. It was a long night." Lisa realizes how out of character she sounds. She is usually a workaholic begging to come into work when people argue that she shouldn't be anywhere near that place.

"Yeah, I'll do that. It's perfectly fine. I don't mind. But," Cynthia pauses, obviously detecting something off, "are you okay Lisa?"

Lisa nods viciously. "I'm fine, Cynthia. I might see you tonight when you come in at shift change." Lisa snaps her phone shut and leans back against the headboard. Her body is extremely tense, always on edge, preparing for anything.

She stands and stretches and decides the first place she needs to head is the bathroom for a long hot shower.

Her mind is racing as she steps into the bathroom. For some reason, she didn't run away. Maybe because she knows Jackson will find her despite her location, maybe because she knows that Jackson will use her family. But then, a voice nags. If she hadn't of completed that fake phone call on the plane, she would have fought Jackson tooth and nail to get away and to save the innocent.

She undresses, staying in her bra and panties. "You've given up," she mutters to her reflection. Then she looks down at the scar right above her right breast. "You said you'd never let it happen again." Her fingers trail over the silver mark. Her eyes widen when she recalls that day, how she turned into such a loner.

She turns on the faucet and splashes water in her face. Jackson didn't come for her or her father last night, but that doesn't mean he won't in due time. Lisa stands and watches the water drip off of her face. She will not let her family get hurt. Jackson will find her for revenge no matter where she is, so she'll stay at home, but get her father to leave. She will stay put and be prepared. She won't go down without a fight.

* * *

><p>Jackson wakes in his room at the company mansion and finds himself tired. Strange, really, considering that he slept all the way through the night like a baby. His eyes had shut immediately after he had undressed and laid down on the comfortable mattress. Now it seems like he didn't sleep a wink. He sits up and stretches his arms above his head feeling cracks in various locations down his spine. He stands, grabs some clothes, and heads to the washroom to shower and dress.<p>

Jackson smoothes out his crisp black dress shirt, not tucked into his dark wash jeans, as he walks down the hallway of the mansion towards the stairs. Loud clicks are audible from his dress shoes as he jogs down the marble steps. "Still alive I see?" The man from yesterday shows up at the bottom of the stairway. Jackson rolls his eyes. "And still sarcastic, I see."

Jackson shrugs. "You're familiar with sarcasm, Heath?" The man laughs blackly.

"That supposed to be funny?" Jackson smirks. "See, I was expecting to be burning your body today. Hate to admit that I'm a bit disappointed."

Heath tucks his hands into the pocket of his dirty gray dress pants. Jackson smiles wider then takes a hand, balls it into a fist, and swings. His fist comes into contact with Heath's jaw with a sickening crunch and spurt of blood. The man staggers and falls to the hard marble floor clutching his face in his bloody hands. Jackson stands over his body and nudges him with his shoe a little.

"I've warned you before about fucking with me." Jackson then walks to the back of the house, behind the bookcase door, and down the concrete steps again. This time he heads to the office right next to his: Murphy's.

He leans against the wall and lets his knuckles graze the door. "Yeah?"

Jackson pushes the door open, letting it fall shut behind him with a click. "I thought we'd go over some sort of plan." Jackson nods towards the folder Murphy is clearly skimming through. "Smith wasn't exactly clear on what he wanted."

Murphy nods and gestures towards one of the two empty chairs in front of his desk; Jackson sits in the one on the left. "Smith is the client," Murphy says, "he isn't exactly a professional when it comes to assassinations. That's why he came to us. So, of course, his plan has flaws."

Jackson leans forward resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together. "So, as you already know, I knew about the Keefe's wanting the Reisert's dead because I did a little research of my own…Perhaps without permission." Murphy slips on some reading glasses and places them at the end of his nose.

"Without permission? Sounds nothing like you at all, Jackson." Murphy lets the sarcasm drip from his voice.

Jackson laughs and picks up the folder placed on his lap and flips it open. "So, apparently Smith believes that the Keefe's, as in Charles and Amanda, have plans to overthrow the government." Jackson pauses looking over the detailed descriptions of the Keefe family. "But, no where do I see any proof of that."

Puzzled, Murphy flips through a few pages of his own folder. "It must be some sort of speculation Smith has. Either way, he's the client. He wants to send a message, let it be."

Jackson nods. "Now, the Reiserts knew Charles Keefe before he got involved in Homeland Security. From what I've read, Lisa's father-

"Joe Reisert, Jackson." Murphy corrects watching Jackson look slightly embarrassed.

"Yes, Joe Reisert." Jackson nervously pulls at his shirt collar feeling suffocated. "Joe Reisert is a retired lawyer, and apparently Charles had issues with the law before getting involved in the government. Now, it says here that he paid off people inside the court system to not get jail time. His record was eventually cleared as well. Joe Reisert, being a determined lawyer, tried to get another trial but was turned down. He spent the rest of his career with a folder on Charles Keefe, wanting to put him behind bars for being an accomplice in terrorist acts." Jackson skims through his notes.

Murphy sits back in his chair making a loud squeak fill the air. "And now this retired lawyer is still keeping that file, I presume?"

Jackson nods. "Charles Keefe wants the Reisert's out of the picture because they are the only people to ever get close enough to him."

"Why get rid of the ex-wife, who now lives in Texas, and the daughter who doesn't know anything?" Murphy rubs his eyes, heavy circles beneath them expressing lack of sleep.

Jackson shrugs and yawns. "He must just want to be on the safe side. Apparently Diane Reisert was a lieutenant and was assisting her husband, Joe, in getting leads on Keefe. She's probably given up because she is retired now as well, but that doesn't mean if her ex-husband mysteriously goes missing she won't turn to someone with a grudge against him. And the daughter is probably a bargaining tool. He may want to kidnap her in return for the files they have on him." Jackson explains realizing he is revealing how much time he has spent doing things he isn't allowed to do.

Murphy nods. "I can see what you mean by your previous research being illegal. None of these speculations are in the folders we have."

Jackson sits back and closes his folder. He stands and walks towards the door. "I've been working with you a long time, sir." Jackson says, twisting the doorknob. "I know how people think."

Murphy raises a hand just as Jackson goes to leave. "What about some sort of plan? The Keefe's won't be staying at the Lux Atlantic long enough for Lisa to help you in getting men in there to terminate them."

Jackson nods. "He'll stay until Joe Reisert and his daughter are out of the picture. We can get him in the Lux Atlantic, as long as plans don't change. Look, I'll get Joe Reisert to leave the state. In the mean time, we can get his thugs to follow Lisa. The more thugs we take out, the less work it is to take out Keefe."

"His thugs will be with him all the time, Jackson. You take out one, he calls another one in."

"Not unless that other one that gets called in isn't actually working for him. Smith is getting his men out of there before they grow suspicious. Keefe will want more men. We'll give him more men." Jackson explains opening the door. "Then we'll get the real Keefe guards to follow Lisa, and take them out. That leaves all of our men with Charles Keefe and his family. Then we can set up an attack."

Murphy holds his hand up again. "You know, Jackson, you don't have to save the Reisert's. In fact, you're making it a little more complicated than it needs to be by saving them."

"I know," Jackson replies with a hint of sorrow in his eyes.

Murphy nods and with that, Jackson walks out of the room, folder firmly in his hand. He smiles to himself as he heads back up the stairs and towards his room. Once he reaches his door he walks in, throws the folder on the bed and pulls a suitcase out from the walk-in closet. He unzips the large suitcase and begins to pack. He grabs all of his clothing, packing them neatly and in an organized fashion, and takes all necessities from his washroom. At the end, he delicately places the folder on top of all his clothes staring at it with heavy eyes. He is indeed making things more complicated by trying to save the Reisert's. Why does he want to? Jackson thinks about Lisa, her fear-filled eyes.

He can't deny the fact that watching her over the eight weeks before the planned Keefe assassination was almost too much to handle. He should be so angry that his skin trembles and boils with rage but Jackson can't feel that kind of rage, for some reason. Revenge has always been pecking his brain, rubbing it raw with ideas. But, then, it's like the silver revolver from inside of Smith's jacket is pointing between his eyes again, threatening him to use her again. Is that really why he doesn't want to hurt Lisa? Jackson sighs, his eyes suddenly heavier than before.

"I just need to finish the job," he mutters as he walks towards his doorway, suitcase in hand, and a confused expression on his face. His destination is one he knows well: Lisa's home.

**I know there isn't much action yet. I apologize. It will pick up once I get through all the details to make sure everything generally makes some sort of sense. Again, thanks so much for reviews. I love them! Please, leave reviews!**

**With reviews on the mind, I appreciate the notifications I get about people favouriting my story or putting it on alert. I find that wonderful! But, please, if you happen to do either of these things, the least you can do is give me a review. If you liked it enough to favourite it or put it on alert, please tell me why! And what you expect from it. Thanks very much though!**


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm back! I'm really sorry to anyone who reads what I write. I am getting back into the swing of writing and hope to actually sit down and get some stuff done. So here is a very short chapter four I literally just wrote as a way to get back into the swing of things. I'm completing another chapter so it should be up soon. Things are going to start to get intense soon...I'm hoping. Enjoy!**

After a shower and quick change, Lisa heads downstairs with determination running through her. She scolded herself her entire shower about staying overnight without getting her father to leave, without seriously considering leaving, without doing something to prevent an incident. She's made a deal with herself. She'll allow herself to continue her usual routine in hopes that she can do something about Jackson coming after her, but it has to be done without her father in the picture. She needs to keep him out of this. He has been put on the line once and she won't let it happen again. The man in the silver beamer would probably be more than happy to come to her childhood home again and turn on some smooth jazz while waiting for instructions from none other than the one and only Jackson Rippner.

When Lisa reaches the bottom of the steps she knows the smell of bacon is the reason for the growls coming from her stomach that she hadn't been paying attention to. She was so immersed in thought that she wasn't even aware that breakfast was bound to creep up on her, especially with her father's hospitality.

"Morning," Lisa says cheerfully as she enters the kitchen that's wafting with delicious scents. A plate is set on the circular kitchen table and has two sunny eggs with three strips of bacon and a glass of orange juice. Joe is over at the stove flipping some eggs onto his empty plate.

He turns and smiles. "How was your sleep?" he asks as he reaches over the stove and turns off the element.

"It was great." Lisa states as she takes her seat.

The sounds of cars going by the house are making her nervous. Her hunger is starting to die down as she realizes that her efforts to make her father leave are going to be difficult, but obviously completely necessary. How is it that yesterday she was content and today she's suddenly realizing the danger she's in? Was yesterday some sort of shock and awe reaction? Was she completely convinced that it would take at least twenty four hours for Jackson to find out about her betrayal? Whatever the reasoning, Lisa is starting to feel nauseated. She wasn't prepared to come up with a quick solution to her problems. If she had of started planning yesterday, she wouldn't be trapped, but that's where she is.

As Joe sits across from her and bites into a strip of bacon, Lisa awkwardly shifts in her chair and fiddles with her fork. "Dad," she starts, "I think you should leave the state."

The silence that follows this strange declaration is piercing. "Um, why?" Joe laughs a little as he takes another bite of bacon.

Lisa swallows and prepares herself for another acting debut in which she'll have to remain believable. "I think you should go visit Mom." Her tone remains light, but the shifting of her gaze could potentially be a big giveaway. Her father, being slightly clueless and not easily worried, starts to look a touch concerned.

"Lisa, honey, I'm probably the last person your Mom wants to see." The honesty in his voice hits home, but Lisa is not going to take no for an answer.

She shakes her head. "I think you might be wrong." Lisa says while taking another sip of orange juice. "She just lost her Mom. And in a way, you did too. She was your mother-in-law at some point." Lisa shifts and realizes that she's playing a game of guilt tripping. She can't find it in herself to care, really. She just wants her father to be safe. And this is the only way she can see that happening.

"I'm aware, Lisa. But what makes you think that I'll be of any sort of comfort?" He continues eating his bacon, with only a slight furrow to his brow.

Lisa shrugs. "While I was visiting, she mentioned that she misses you." This isn't untrue, and Lisa finds herself astonished that she even remembers her mother saying that during her grandmother's funeral. _Lisa, call me crazy, but at a time like this, I really miss your father._

Joe snorts. "I bet she thinks she does. But remember, she's the one who left me." At this point, Joe has gobbled down almost his entire breakfast. "And the reason she left me is because she couldn't stand me, Lisa."

Her eyes sting a little hearing this. It's not like she doesn't remember why her mother decided to leave her father. But the fact that her father can so easily remind her of it hurts. He's come to terms with the love of his life leaving him because "she couldn't stand him". Lisa shakes her head. She can't afford to dwell on that at the present time. She just wants her father safe, and even if her mother can't stand him at times, Lisa knows that she can stand him at others. Her mother told her during the funeral service. She wants his company again and wishes she could have it at a time like this. With this information Lisa is praying that she can use it to her advantage. It's the only thing that will convince her father to go. He needs to know that she's being serious, and that his ex-wife really does miss him right now.

"I can get you on a flight this afternoon." Lisa likes being in control of situations, and frequently tries to manager her father's life, but this was something he was going to fight. Sure, she may be right to scold him for staying up all hours of the night and losing numerous important pieces of identification from his wallet or occasionally his keys, but this wasn't something a daughter should force her father to do. Yet she's trying to do it, and she's not going to give up. "I know Mom would love to see you right now."

"Lisa, look-

"Dad, I'm serious. Mom told me she wants to see you. She needs to see you. We can call off the renovations while you go visit. I can book a flight for this afternoon and drive you to the airport." She knows that's she's got him. She's stating all of the facts and sees no way for him to protest. By her saying that her mother needs him, she's sealed the deal. Her father will be safe, and far away from Miami where an angry Jackson Rippner lurks.

The only movement Joe makes is to sit back in his chair and stare at Lisa, trying to depict her facial expressions. He keeps opening and closing his mouth, like he's about to say something, but just can't.

"I'll take that as a yes. I'll go book you a flight and call the construction company. You should go pack." Lisa hops up and grabs the phone off of the counter and heads into the living room to use the computer.

Joe sits with a piece of half-eaten bacon in his hand while wondering how his daughter just managed to make him go and see his ex-wife in Texas.

**Like I said, short. But I feel like it gets things moving. Slowly, but surely. One step closer to Jackson and Lisa meeting again...  
><strong>**Leave me a review please and thanks! I love hearing from readers.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Here is chapter 5. By the end, a direction for the story should be getting clear. Like I've said, I try to explain things in great detail...Sometimes too much, so hopefully it isn't too much to handle, aha. I feel pretty good about it so far! Read and review ladies and gents.**

After several more protests, Lisa is packing her father's SUV with her cell phone wedged between her shoulder and her ear as she speaks in hurried and hushed tones to her mother in Texas. "Mom, calm down. You meant what you said at the funeral, did you not?" Lisa sighs heavily as she closes the trunk of the vehicle and jumps into the driver's seat staring at the front door anxiously waiting. "He'll just be visiting for a few days. He just wants to comfort you."

"You have got to be kidding me, Lisa." Her mother exhales heavily. "I have to admit that it would be nice to see him, but I'm a mess."

"All the more reason for him to visit and help you out around the house, take your mind off of things. He's just going to come and offer his condolences and then he'll be gone." Lisa taps her fingers against the steering wheel impatiently. She hesitates but shakes her head and turns the key in the ignition firing up the engine.

Joe stumbles out of the house and fumbles with his ring of keys as he attempts to shut the front door and lock it. "Okay, Lisa. Thanks for doing this." With a short breath her mother sobs a little. "I love you very much. You know that, right?"

Lisa smiles as she glances in the review mirror almost expecting to see a silver beamer. "I know. And you too, Mom." Just as Joe hops into the passenger seat after many failed attempts to lock the house up, Lisa slaps her phone shut and tosses it into her purse in the back seat. "Ready?" she asks.

He shrugs. "I honestly never imagined going to visit your mother, so I don't even know how to be ready for this." Lisa chuckles as she shifts the large vehicle into reverse and carefully backs out of the driveway and drives down the winding survey street. "Is that a good enough answer?"

"Not what I was expecting," she admits, "but it'll have to do, right?" she stops at a stop sign, looks both ways, then continues on as her father shifts awkwardly in his seat making the leather seat groan.

"You're damn right." He chuckles darkly staring out the passenger window. "I hope I remembered everything."

Lisa rolls her eyes. "As long as you've got some form of identification, like your passport," she says simply. "You did remember, right Dad?" she narrows her eyes as she glances over at him.

"Yes, I did." He answers. "I wish I knew where I put my damn wallet. I hate to go to a different state and not even have a wallet."

"I'm sure it'll turn up somehow. In the meantime, you have the credit card that was on the desk and your driver's license, right?" Lisa exhales as she recalls the way Jackson had dropped her father's wallet in front of her eyes on the plane. In all of the commotion, she's not even certain what happened to it. It's probably on the plane or in a garbage can somewhere. There wasn't any identification in it since his driver's license was in the car so there wouldn't have been any way of knowing who to return it to.

He nods. "Yeah, I do." He takes a deep breath as Lisa pulls out on the highway heading towards the airport. "Here goes nothing…"

* * *

><p>Jackson grips the steering wheel of his precious and sleek black beast so tight that his hand is beginning to cramp and turn a vampire hue of snow white. His eyes are staring straight ahead at the clear highway. He's driving well over the speed limit but his cares are nowhere near the posted speed limits. He can only think of one person at this point and that person is Lisa.<p>

He finally reaches the Lux Atlantic and slowly drives by the barricaded building that has an entire room blown off of it. _A room that should have contained the Keefe's._ Jackson snorts with irritation. He pinches the bridge of his nose as he watches the security guards outside of the hotel and the seriousness of their faces, the way the sunglasses on their noses let the sun reflect off the lenses. They appear at ease. And the only reason they would appear at ease is if Keefe is at ease. Jackson smirks a little. His suspicions about the Keefe's are starting to appear truer than he had originally suspected while discussing the matter with Murphy yesterday. Why haven't the Keefe's left after a clear security threat to the very hotel they happen to be staying in? Jackson pulls into the parking lot of a small coffee shop still thinking. Keefe must be insisting that they stay in order to successfully carry out business. And his business may just be as dirty as his history.

Jackson double checks that his beast is locked and leisurely walks into the small coffee shop prepared to order a serious dose of caffeine. His eyes seem incredibly weak and sleepy. His mind seems to be running a million miles a second, causing his body to run down. He throws a few dollars at the lady behind the counter and grabs the coffee from her hand with a smile on his face despite the obviously angry body language he's exuding.

The air seems hotter than when he had walked into the coffee shop but Jackson adapts quickly as he strolls over to his car and leans against it. He had planned to drive right to Lisa's house and start monitoring her, to see if she had fallen back into her usual routine. His eyes had another plan, however. They could barely stay open, even with the strong caffeine bubbling in his veins.

"Fuck," Jackson murmurs as he takes his free hand and presses it to his face is distress. The Lux Atlantic is not an option for a place to stay, and anywhere high end will attract too much attention. His only option is somewhere gross, with dim light and a creepy night guard. He needs to find a rundown motel and try to get over the amount of germs on the doorknobs alone.

After a quick search on his phone he finds the perfect spot just a few blocks away from Lisa's apartment. Jackson quickly swallows the rest of his coffee, tosses it into an outside garbage, hops into his beast and begins the very short drive to the very rundown motel.

When Jackson had thought of a rundown motel, he expected a couple storeys in need of a paint job and an upgrade in security and people skills. What he pulled into was a one storey building that looked like it was harbouring child molesters which made his skin crawl and caused his hairs to stand on end. Nothing ever bothers Jackson, so the fact that this particularly creep motel makes his ears perk up prepared to hear children crying and screaming, is really something astonishing. He glides his hands down his face and prepares for the creepy people he's bound to run into and the dirty room he's going to have to sleep in.

"Just when I thought shit couldn't get any fucking worse," Jackson mutters. He curses again as he gets out of the beast and grabs his bag from the back. On his way to the front of the building he hits his lock button an extra time, just to be sure.

He reaches the front desk and sees a plump man in serious need of a razor. "Yeah?" he grunts as Jackson, in his sharp suit and clean shaven face, leans against the rotting wood of the front desk.

Jackson stiffens a little. "I need a room for a few days." He awkwardly reaches into his inner jacket pocket and pulls out his expensive wallet pulling out a wad of cash. He was too nervous to ask if they would take his platinum credit card. "This should cover a week," he picks up his bag just as the man widens his eyes as he begins to finger through the money, "any extra is yours." Jackson explains as he reaches across the desk and grabs a room key hung in plain sight on the wall next to the man with visible coffee stains on his t-shirt.

Jackson takes a deep breath as he reaches room twenty eight, the second last room on the right side of the abandoned hallway. He's expecting to hear lots of smoker coughs, perhaps the tapping of credit cards against glass coffee tables as lines of coke are prepared, but his imagination is getting a little carried away. He just can't stand the sight of this place, let alone the fact that he has to stay here for the next week or so. With a heavy heart he opens the door to find a surprisingly well kept room. The bed looks very large and comfortable, the television a decent size, plenty of drawers in the oak dresser, a nice matching desk next to a table with two chairs, and a very sparkling clean bathroom. Jackson nods approvingly. Maybe their cleaning staff is actually half decent.

All he desires is a nap, but he can't possibly allow himself that pleasure at the moment. Instead, he pulls out his laptop and begs that by some miracle that wireless is available in this place. He sits at the desk and waits as the computer starts up. He laughs when he notices the internet symbol looks just as it does when he's at home where his wireless never fails. So, his conclusion is that the cleaning staff does well, and the bonus of wireless internet is acceptable.

He cracks his fingers and yawns once before typing Charles Keefe into a search engine and beginning some much needed research. He reads about the little information about Charles' former life before Homeland Security. The unfortunate bit is that anyone who would have known about Keefe's indiscretions seems to not be around to tell the tale anymore. Jackson feels as though a light bulb goes off as he clicks highlighted names taking him to different pages that explain more about the mystery that is Charles Keefe. He lands on a page about Robert Sheer, the judge who was supposed to oversee the trial against Keefe. The information explains that there were "minimal" accusations against Keefe suggesting his involvement with terrorist attacks that were "in no way possible" and "purely coincidental". From what Jackson reads, Judge Sheer was not a man with a sympathetic heart. He was all about the facts. Jackson swallows as he scrolls and reads about a gang home invasion that ended the judge's life just weeks before the impending trial.

Jackson continues reading about a detective who had investigated into the alleged terrorist attacks and managed to pull up Charles' name. Jackson scanned the article online and reached the end with wide eyes. Detective Andrew Black was killed in a house fire that police and fire departments agreed was due to an electrical issue. That brought Jackson to the detective's close friends who started to dive into the case and request a court trail with a different judge shortly after Black's funeral, but the two of them were killed one week apart in drive by shootings by being, as the article states, "in the wrong place at the wrong time".

His eyes come across a name that seems too good to be true. Joe Reisert's name is written in the article stating the case was given to him in Florida due to the number of problems in New York and the numerous and seemingly very coincidental and tragic deaths of men surrounding the case, although it seemed obvious to point to the man on trial, absolutely no hint of Charles surrounded the deaths, apparently. Joe took it without hesitation stating he knew facts that the department in New York didn't since he and his then-wife, Diane Reisert, had been doing some research and were about to take it to their superior and request an arrest and trial. They took the case and eventually got Charles in court, but that leads Jackson to where things have clearly been edited out to try and keep Charles' record clean. Every article talks about how the officers, detectives, even judges were running off of coincidence and speculation. Every article seems to explain a lull in cases in the areas which the case transferred to. Jackson scans and discovers that the case was ultimately dropped and everyone involved refused to answer questions about the matter. Jackson smirked. So it was indeed true that Charles paid off the courts so he wouldn't get jail time and would achieve a squeaky clean record with edited online articles. But Smith really seems to think that Charles is planning some sort of government overthrow.

Jackson sits back and taps his chin. Nowhere in the research does it even suggest that Charles wants to take out the government. Sure, it clearly suggests that he was involved, "coincidently" of course, in serious crimes before his record was cleared and the general public forgot about his past "mistakes" or about his "coincidental" accusations. But he doesn't seem smart enough to take out the government.

Jackson traces back and makes a note in his head that even though it's very clear that Charles isn't smart enough to overthrow the government, he seems smart enough to want to get rid of everyone involved with his trial. That's the moment when Jackson clicks another article and comes across the name James Smith and clicks is curiously. He is taken to a biography on a very successful car salesman who happens to own several dealerships. His picture is none other than the Smith who is Murphy's client. According to the article, Smith was, and potentially is still, close friends with the detective who got transferred the case after it left New York. Joe Reisert.

Of course there isn't research suggesting that Charles wants to overthrow the government. Smith is just using that as his reasoning because he doesn't want to expose the fact that Keefe has been traveling around the country in order to murder those with information about his past. And he's saved the Reisert's for last. Joe and Diane Reisert remained interested in the Keefe case long after the trial was stopped in its tracks and Keefe's record was completely cleared and the press was given specific statements to tell the public reporting Keefe's innocence in any terrorist matters. Joe Reisert still has a file with all of the information about the real Charles Keefe. And now he's staying at the Lux Atlantic where he knows Lisa Reisert, a very potential bargaining tool for the retrieval of a very important file, is located.

Jackson pulls out his phone prepared to call Murphy and spill everything he's managed to piece together. But he already knows what he'll say. _Why are you insisting on saving the Reisert's? Just figure out how to kill Keefe and move on. If the Resiert's happen to fall in the process, oh well. You shouldn't want to save them anyways. One of them fucked you over. _Jackson boils with rage at the thought, but at the same time, saving a particular Reisert is nagging away at him.

**Well. Perhaps things are becoming clear? Jackson is having a strange reaction to the newly discovered information...Honestly, I can't wait to get him and Lisa in a room together. No worries. Soon enough. Let me know if you're still liking it or starting to hate it...Any review is welcome. :) Thank you!**


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